


LET MONSTERS BURN

by wayvbabey



Series: NCT HALLOWEEN SERIES: NCT Dream [7]
Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-31
Updated: 2020-10-31
Packaged: 2021-03-08 17:55:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,298
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27310807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wayvbabey/pseuds/wayvbabey
Summary: As an archaeologist, you pride yourself on your unwavering curiosity and determination. But one day you take it too far, and both you and your assistant, Mark, must face the consequences.-part of a collab with @sleepingrenjun on tumblr.
Relationships: Mark Lee (NCT)/Reader
Series: NCT HALLOWEEN SERIES: NCT Dream [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1956091
Comments: 2
Kudos: 24





	LET MONSTERS BURN

**Author's Note:**

> Here it is, folks, the finale of the Halloween Dream series. I hope you've all enjoyed. My works may be few and far between from now on but I hope you'll keep supporting me and keep reading :)

-

Mark hadn’t expected a cave to be so annoying.

Perhaps _annoying_ was the wrong word. On one hand, the sound of steadily dripping water bores into his brain again and again, like a broken record he can’t overlook. The steady flickering of the oil lamps whispers in the back of his mind, too soft to focus on but too loud to ignore.

Supernatural hearing comes with its disadvantages. Mark knows this. He hears everything, including the steady thrumming of your heartbeat and your slightly laboured breaths from across the cavern, as you carry on with your work. But being underground is so annoying because Mark is _acutely_ aware of the lack of sound down here.

Wherever he goes, there is normally a heartbeat, a voice, some sort of sound to ground him. If not that then he can always smell the food stalls below his apartment, and when you arrive at work each day your perfume greets him before you even press the bell to be allowed in. 

Being down here is driving him stir-crazy.

However, he can’t leave.

He can’t leave because getting to the surface will be tiresome. And, if he’s keeping time right, it’s about midday now, meaning the sun will be out in full force (since they’re in Argentina) and so he’ll only have minutes before he drops like a sack of potatoes. Secondly, if he _does_ leave you, his assigned ‘partner’ (babysitter), The Association will dispatch someone to dispose of him within a few hours.

And thirdly, he doesn't _want_ to leave you.

He sighs, an oddly human thing to do for a vampire, but habits are hard to break.

The noise is carried through the silence and you pause your inspection to glance at him. Despite teasing from your peers, you were firm on your stance to give Mark a couple of breaks throughout the day, which meant he’s standing in the corner while you take a look at the ancient markings on the cavern wall.

“Are you okay?” You ask him.

“Of course,” he calls back immediately. “Why? Do you need some help?”

Mark is always cautious not to act too… _eccentric_ around you (not that you get scared easily), but down in the cave, he forgets himself for a second and covers the distance between the two of you in a blink of an eye.

“I’m fine.” You take a step back to put some distance in between the two of you and have to stop yourself smiling at the look of panic that flashes across your assistant’s face. Mark has always tried to act as human as possible (which is to be expected, since he’s practically a newborn), but even though the two of you have been working together for a few years now, he can’t seem to understand that you don’t mind his abilities.

“Well,” he looks up at the wall you’re studying. “Have you found, uh, _anything?_ ”

This time, it’s you who sighs. “Nothing I can make sense of,” you admit reluctantly. “I’ve run it through several translators and they’re coming up with nothing, so we might have to wait until we get some service and send it off to some colleagues. Are you _sure_ you can’t read this?”

“Why do you think I’m fluent in some sort of ancient language?” You hear him whine from behind you. “I’m not _that_ old.”

“I don’t know, Mark,” you tease, “have you not gained some secret vampire code or something?”

“Can we please not bring this up?” He pleads. “Just- look, why don’t we call it a day, huh? We can get out of this stuffy cave and go back to the hotel.”

You bark out a laugh, turning back to the writing. “We’re not even halfway through discovering what’s down here, Mark. Why would we leave?”

“I don’t know,” he trails off. Unbeknownst to you, Mark rubs the back of his neck, a habit he’s retained from his mortal life, and tries not to sound too freaked out. “Does this place not give you the creeps?”

“It might be October, Mark, but I doubt we’re going to find zombies or anything like that,” you reply sarcastically. “Besides, I’m pretty sure you’re the most dangerous thing down here.”

"Y/N, don’t even joke about that.” You hear him scold. Mark’s vampirism has always been a sore spot for him and you’ve known that ever since the two of you met. Being a fledgling vampire meant that deep down, he is always fighting for control, but you have the utmost faith in him. Mark’s retention on his humanity is extraordinary, and one of the reasons The Association permitted him to not only live, but also work with you, one of their chief archaeologists.

“Sorry,” you smile apologetically at him and his tense expression melts away. “I mean, if it makes you feel any better, we might bump into a malevolent spirit or something.”

“That’s even worse!” He whines and you can’t help but laugh. Though you’ve argued with The Association countless times about the near impossibility of ancient vampire artifacts being in _any_ warm climate, let alone Argentina, they had overruled you and sent you away to see if there was anything to find. Out of all the work you do, researching vampires is easily the most tedious, not only because they are one of the least researched species but also because it requires you to go to places that are less than pleasant, like this cave.

There’s no light, it’s dangerous, and you’re freezing. Mark notices a shiver run through your body and blinks. He hasn’t even noticed the temperature.

“Y/N,” he calls to you.

“Yes?”

“Are youcold?”

“Not really,” you frown at the amount of attention he’s paying to you. Shouldn’t he be looking through your resources and trying to make a connection Nevertheless, you play off your temperature in order to get him off you back. Mark Lee has always been a worrier.

“Are you sure?” He asks again, doubtfully. “I packed you an extra jacket just in case-”

“I'm _fine,_ Mark,” you shrug off his concerns once again. “Can you go and browse through some of the scrolls we were given? I haven’t touched them yet so maybe they’ll yield some results.”

“Sure,” he agrees easily, moving away to get on with his task. Now the two of you are fully concentrated you lapse into silence. Occasionally Mark will hear your footsteps pace up and down the length of the wall as you try to find a pattern, but apart from that, he works silently, sifting through the information until something catches his eye.

“Y/N.”

You whip your head around to face him. “What is it?”

“There’s some images in this text,” he points to the paper laid out in front of him. “It might be worth taking a look?”

You come over and examine the material. Mark has found a page containing preserved copies of a fifteenth-century wax tablet. Upon closer inspection, many of the indecipherable scribbles match the markings on the wall.

“Where was this found?” You ask, lifting it up and making your way back over to the wall of the cave. Mark catches on quickly, grabbing a torch and flicking it on to help you see better.

“The Association picked it up from a library in Sibiu a few hundred years ago. _Which_ , by the way, is-”

“A city in Transylvania. Yes, I know.” You hum, eyes flicking between the wall and book. “I’m guessing this little gem was tucked away somewhere, harmless to the public eye, but in a handy location of someone were to need it.”

“So it links to Argentina?”

“I was doubtful at first, but yes,” you conclude. “It has to, and the only thing I can think of as to _why…_ ”

Your eyes come to rest on the final line of the markings. One symbol in particular is a circle with an eye in the middle and then another darker circle on top, obscuring half the drawing.

“… Is to conceal something.”

Mark pauses for a second, following your gaze to make the connection. When he does, he opens his mouth.

“Does that mean, like, the wall has to come down or something?”

You turn to him and he’s momentarily distracted by the seriousness in your eyes.

“How hard can you hit?” Is your reply.

-

Because Mark is effectively bound to The Association (for fear of his life), he is a stickler for rules.

“We are _not_ destroying a research site.” He pleads with you as you rummage through the crates that have been brought down with you. “Y/N, they will literally _skin us alive_ if they realise you’re going to break through that wall.”

“They won’t know if we blow it all up.” You reply innocently, huffing in exertion before digging around deeper into the box. “ _And_ if you don’t tell them.”

It’s in times like these that Mark wishes that, for once, you would just _listen_ to him. Maybe that’s what he ~~(loves)~~ likes about you, but right now he wishes he had some sort of superior command over you.

“There has to be another way!” He tries again, flinching back when you pull out a stick of dynamite.

“They told us to search for any links to vampiric activity outside the known regions. What do you think they’ll say if we return back and tell them we found something, but didn’t bother to explore it fully?”

Mark can only groan in response because he can’t argue with that, or with you. Not when you have that determined look in your eye. Besides, something horrible inside him loves the idea of you, with your passionate gaze, and a stick of dynamite in his hands.

“Fine,” he relents finally, bringing a hand to the back of his neck to try and channel his frustration. “But we need a backup plan in case we cause a cave-in. If you’re not going to bother risk-assessing, then _I_ will.”

“You’re an _angel_ ,” you praise, grinning widely, and Mark likes to think that if he _could_ blush then he’d be all shades of crimson right now. Instead, he awkwardly dismisses himself and (stupidly) leaves you all alone with the dynamite, fumbling around to try and find a risk-assessment form to fill out. When he fails, all he can do is pull out his phone and write _going 2 blow up a wall. If it goes wrong, grab Y/N and run._

“Have you ever done this before?” He pockets his phone and tries to calm his shaky nerves. Why is _he_ , the _vampire_ , the one who’s about this? Your pulse is accelerated, sure, but from what he can gather it’s from adrenaline and excitement. No nerves in sight.

“Would it make you feel better if I said yes?” You reply, placing the dynamite by the markings. “Can you move all the stuff out of the way? I don’t know how far back this is going to go.”

“ _You don’t know-_ Fine.” He exhales in disbelief.

The two of you work in silence again but this time the air is charged with excitement. Mark can feel it radiating off you but it’s not a new experience to him. It happens whenever you get close to a discovery.

Mark just isn’t sure you’re going to like what’s on the other side.

“Are you ready?” You turn to him finally with a lighter in hand. The last of the dynamite has been placed and Mark realises, in horror, that you intend to just throw the lighter near the explosives.

Humans are _fragile_ , so why are _you_ so reckless?

“Give me that-” he snatches it off you despite your protests before sliding his cold hand into yours and dragging you to the other side of the cave. Once you’re as far away from the explosion as he can get you, he places two hands on your shoulders and bends down a little so he’s at your height, a classic indicator that he’s about to give you a 'serious talk’.

“Listen,” you blink up at him and he tries his best not to get distracted. “I’m going to go over there and light it up. Then, I’m going to come back and cover your ears so you don’t go deaf, okay?”

You frown, rather adorably. “But what about your ears?”

“I think they’ll be okay.” He straightens up and tests the lighter, trying not to flinch too much at the warm glow. Vampires aren’t a fan of fires.

“Don’t get blown up!” You say, all too cheerful given the current situation at hand while placing your fingers in your ears. Sending you a half-withered, half-affectionate look, Mark takes in a deep breath (just to psyche himself up) and then heads on over.

For you, it happens in milliseconds. One minute Mark is gone, then he’s right in front of you, icy hands encompassing your own to provide another layer of protection to your ears.

For a moment, nothing happens, and you think, _well, this is awkward._

Then you see a flash of orange and yellow in your peripheral before Mark’s body pushes into yours and he cages you up against the bumpy surface of the wall.

The explosion must be loud because you can still hear it, a sort of booming and roaring noise that has your eyes fluttering shut. In movies explosions only happen for a short period of time, but it feels like you are there forever, listening to the symphony of destruction you have created while Mark shields you with his own body.

_Are vampires bomb-proof?_ You wonder, and then make a mental note to try and test that theory later.

Eventually, the noise ceases, though you have to struggle against Mark to free yourself. Once you can see and hear again you realise he’s not moving, using the wall as a support, and his face is scrunched up in pain.

“I’m fine,” he answers, as if he’s just read your thoughts. “I just didn’t expect the shrapnel.”

Your heart drops. “I don’t know first aid.”

“Well that wouldn’t help anyway, would it?” Despite himself, Mark can’t help but laugh weakly, a smile pulling at his lips as he feels the feeling come back into his spine and the little bits of stone embedded in his skin fall back out onto the floor. His body heals as if the explosion had never happened while you keep an eye on his face, trying to make sure he’s doing okay.

Finally, he stands up. “I’m good.”

“Are you sure?” You search for any signs of pain. “I was lying, I do know first aid, although I’m not sure if it’ll work on vampires.”

“I’m sure,” he repeats. “What does it look like?”

“See for yourself.” You reply, turning him so that he faces the wide, gaping cavern that has appeared from behind the wall.

Sure enough, the wall has given way to another cavern that is lost in the darkness. You peer curiously at it while Mark freezes, trying to gauge if anything is down there.

There’s nothing.

“Do we have spare torches?” You head back over to the supply area, hopping over chunks of rock that have landed on the floor. It’s a miracle that none of the equipment has been damaged and Mark feels like he wants to scream.

“Y/N, we can’t go in there,” he tries to plead, following you over. “We could go back to the hotel, call for another team and then be in there tomorrow morning, but going in alone is just…. not a good idea.”

He finishes off his little speech lamely but you throw him a reassuring smile.

“If I’ve got you with me, I don’t really need to worry, do I?”

Mark can’t really argue with that, though a small insecurity eats away at him, asking: _what if I’m not enough? What if something happens and we don’t make it out alive?_

But the way you’re smiling him lulls him into a false sense of security. When you give him that look he can only feel like the two of you can take on the world. It’s the same look you gave him when he first arrived at The Association, terrified be was going to be killed, and you waltzed your way into the meeting and talked them all out of it.

“If I think anything is going to happen, we’re leaving and not returning until we have another team with us.” He warns you. “And I mean it.”

“Of course!” You smile at him again before holding out a torch. “Don’t worry so much, Mark. Whatever might possibly be in that cave probably hasn’t had access to anything for a very long time, meaning the likelihood of something being alive is very, very slim.”

“Not impossible though.” He mutters, flicking the torch on and beginning to make his way over to the- quite literal -hole in the wall.

Unbeknownst to Mark, as soon as you step past the residue of the original cave wall you feel the temperature drop rapidly. There’s no wind current flowing through here but the sheer lack of light is enough to make you feel although you’re encased in ice. A glance to your companion tells you that Mark can’t feel it, but you should have known.

You should have asked for that extra coat too.

“So,” you try to take your mind off the chill by striking up a conversation, though it feels out of place in the darkness and silence, “what do you think we’ll find?”

Mark casts you a sideways glance, eyes wide. “Are you trying to freak me out?”

“No,” you can’t help but smile at his apprehension. “It’s a serious question. If you ever run your own team then you’ll need to know if going somewhere will be worth it. Hypothesizing what you might find is a must. So: what do you think we’ll find?”

“I dunno,” Mark shrugs. “Some weird, ancient sacrifice room?” An ancient torture chamber?“

"Well, the markings did allude to some concealment,” you prompt, “so maybe there’ll be a…?”

“Dead body?”

“No I was thinking more like a treasure-”

“No, Y/N, for real,” Mark sounds oddly panicked, “there’s a dead body.”

You shine your torch in his direction and stop when the light flickers over a skeleton splayed up against the wall. The head is bent to the side and downwards while the rest of the body is relaxed.

“ _Okay,_ ” Mark pipes up, false confidence in his tone, “we’re leaving. Let’s go.”

“Wait!” You walk forward to examine it further. “This body is probably very old. It’s way past the last stages of skeletonization and, judging from where the body is, I guess it has been unable to disintegrate or dissolve.”

“And that helps us how?” Mark snaps, evidently spooked by the body.

“Which means it is very, very old.” You finish patiently. “No-one’s died recently, so we’re fine.”

“What, you don’t think it’s weird how this body is fairly close to our exit. Our exit that was _previously sealed up?_ ” Mark bites the inside of his cheek. “Y/N, we _really_ should go.”

“It’ll be fine.” You promise him. “If you want to wait by the exit, that’s fine by me, but just go and get the radio so we can communicate.”

“I’m not leaving you.” The words are out of Mark’s mouth before he can even think them through and a small part of him preens at the pleased smile that appears on your face.

So the two of you carry on, and the further in you get the more and more Mark becomes unsettled. The cave is all darkness so even if he wanted to, there’s nothing to see. There’s no smell, either, and he can no longer hear anything from your base camp.

The only thing that can ground him is your heartbeat, the sound of blood pumping slow and steady through your veins. He tries not to focus too much on the latter and so decides to mimic your breathing, slow and regular, to try and ground himself.

“Can you pick up anything?” You ask, strangely quiet. He doesn’t blame you, it seems like the two of you have been walking for hours.

“No,” he replies regretfully. Sometimes, though you beg to differ, Mark thinks it’s his one job to protect you. So when he can’t even foresee what’s coming he can’t help but feel a little useless.

“I guess we’re in for a long walk then.” You grimace, but show no signs of stopping.

There are so many words on the tip of Mark’s tongue. Most suggesting to go back, but he can’t say them. Instead, he follows along beside you, tense but relaxed, waiting to meet whatever lies at the end of the tunnel.

-

Whatever lies at the tunnel is, apparently, a dead end.

“We came all the way down here for this?” Mark gestures carelessly to the end of the tunnel, unable to keep his irritation at bay. Sure, vampires don’t get tired, but he's _fed up._ The two of you could be back at the hotel now, unwinding after a stressful day. Instead, he’s going to have to walk back through the darkness and listen to his own thoughts drill through his head.

“Don’t be so quick to give up.” You chastise him gently, coming closer to the wall and pointing your torch at it.

“Well, how do you explain the dead body?”

“Maybe someone had to stay to seal this place in?” The surface of the wall isn’t smooth. Instead, there’s more wring at the top, with two circles below, one inside the other. In the middle is a small hole.

You can feel Mark’s stare on your back. “Who would give up their life to do that, Y/N?”

He doesn’t like the look you give him in reply. “Someone who thought there was something worth keeping out.”

Mark doesn’t reply, instead coming to peer over your shoulder and provide another light source for you.

“What is that?”

“I don’t know.” You reply, before tentatively getting closer. Like a moth to a flame, you draw nearer the strange marking. The light of the torch reveals what is inside the hole: a sharp, pin-like bit of stone protruding upwards.

Mark sees you extend your hand, but by then it’s too late.

The fresh scent of blood is like the first smear of paint that stains the canvas, so intense and _alive_ that he almost drops the torch.

You snatch your finger back and shove it into your mouth, tongue soothing away the injury while you watch Mark with caution.

“Why would you do that?” He gets out, trying his very hardest not to breathe _at all_. He’s been off human blood for years, ever since The Association tracked him down, but the fresh coppery scent is too enticing. He wants to move forward and take it just as much as he wants to get as far away from you as possible which leaves him stuck in place, as if an unstoppable force has met an immovable object.

He can see what will happen. It’s playing through his head like a movie. He’ll lose control, pin you to the wall, and soon you’ll be nothing more than a skeleton, similar to the one he saw earlier.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, and if Mark isn’t having a hard time now, the increase in your heartbeat, the flow of blood in your veins like a steam train does nothing to help. Your body is on alert despite your best efforts to stay calm and it takes everything for Mark not to just give in.

The two of you stay like this until the end of the tunnel makes an awful groaning noise, demanding your attention.

The end of the tunnel isn’t the end at all. It’s a door, moving to the side and revealing more darkness.

Mark watches, still frozen, as you glance from him to the darkness. Then, slowly, you move forward.

You are now on one side and he is on the other.

He has a choice. Either follow you in and risk losing himself, or stay out here where he can neither hurt nor protect you.

The stone wall starts rumbling again before sliding across.

For a moment you see Mark’s face, full of self-control and anguish, eyes blood red as he stares at you. Then, he disappears from sight.

But only for a moment. With seconds to spare he squirms through the gap, only just making it before the two of you are sealed in.

It’s dark now, but you don’t dare shine your light onto Mark’s face.

“Are you okay?” You whisper, not wanting to raise your voice for fear of the echo.

There’s no reply. Then,

“Yeah.”

He sounds more stable now and you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding.

“I’m sorry.” Is all you can say. “I just- it made sense. We’re here to investigate vampires and there was a place that required a sacrifice of blood to get to.”

“You didn’t even consult me.” Something in Mark’s voice sounds defeated, and all of a sudden, everything you’ve done, all the risks you’ve taken, just aren’t worth it.

“What if I’d have hurt you?”

“You wouldn’t have.” You reply earnestly, trying to ease his conscience.

He shakes his head. “You don’t know that, Y/N. We’re in the middle of nowhere. I would have had to-” he pauses, “- to carry your body out of here on my own. Did you even think about what that would do to me?”

“I’m sorry, Mark.” Your hand reaches out as if to touch him, but then you think better of it. “I- I just wasn’t thinking. Nothing like that will ever happen again. I’m so sorry. You can switch teams if you want. I just-”

You can’t finish your sentence, can’t bear to hear the truth.

_I just wanted to find out what was behind this door more than I cared about you_.

It’s a shocking, selfish realisation. Since when had you been that type of person?

“It’s over now. Don’t let it bug you.”

If that’s Mark assurance, it fails drastically. He sounds so put out but judging by the way he walks forward and shines his torch around it’s clear the conversation is over.

Now that you’re able to investigate the tunnel further, it’s clear that it isn’t actually a tunnel. Instead, it is a small, round cavern, since your torchlight hits the other side.

The first thing that piques your interest is the carvings on the walls. The entire circumference seems to have had a makeover by a few expert sculptors.

They are humanoid statues, reminding you eerily of weeping angels, with veils over their faces, closed eyes and lips, and hands crossed over on their chests. Thousands and thousands of them, all facing the middle.

Shining your torch to see what they are looking at, it becomes apparent that Mark is doing the same. The combined light shines on down into a pit that has a rectangular shape in the middle of it. Upon closer inspection, the top of the rectangle dips in a little. Oddly like a…

Coffin.

“This isn’t a cave.” Mark whispers. “It’s a tomb.”

“Mark.” Your voice is hoarse and he is struck dumb by the trepidationin your voice. “The lid. There’s no lid.”

The coffin is open.

You’re unable to take your torch off the coffin but you can still see Mark through the residue light. His eyes meet yours and this time they are red again.

Vampires usually have normal coloured eyes, to help them blend in. The only times when they change to red are when they are in states of increased arousal.

Which means either bloodlust, or extreme emotion.

_Fear._

Mark hears it before he sees it. An odd _whooshing_ noise, like a bat gliding through the night. His body moves of its own accord, twisting through the darkness and coming into contact with whatever was about to pounce upon you.

They clatter into the wall, breaking off a piece of the monument. Of course, all you can see is Mark’s torch flying through the air, but you waste no time in dashing to the exit, trying to find a way to get out.

“Whoever comes in here isn’t expected to make it out alive,” you mumble to yourself. “So _where’s the fucking exit button?_ ”

You fumble around in the darkness until your fingers find a crevice and there’s a slight pinch. Something warm and wet dribbles down your hand while the familiar rumble begins up again.

“ _Mark!_ ” You yell hoarsely, wasting no time in squeezing out of the tomb.

A second later and he appears by the exit. His body is heaving with exertion and, to your horror, his clothes are ripped and there are claw marks all over him.

“Come on!” You waste no time in grabbing him and hauling him through to door, before grabbing his wrist and sprinting down the long corridor. He finds his stride soon enough, intertwining your hands (evidently not caring about the blood) and taking the lead.

“What is it?” You pant.

“How am I supposed to know?”

“You killed it, didn’t you?”

“Killed it?!” Mark chokes out a laugh. “That thing doesn’t have a heartbeat, Y/N! I’ve checked, knocked on the door, and no-one’s home in there!”

“So we can’t kill it?”

“We can’t kill it.”

“Okay,” you huff. “Then, just keep running. We can reach the exit before he does.”

“Like _that_ guy tried to do?” Mark points to the skeleton just as you pass it, before skidding to a stop and dropping your hand. Then he reaches down, grabs one of the femur bones, and hurls it into the darkness.

There’s a light thud.

“ _Fuck,_ ” Mark curses, obviously seeing something you can’t. He takes your hand again, running so fast you almost trip up trying to match his pace.

“We shouldn’t have gone in there.” He admonishes. “There was a _reason_ it was so tucked away!”

There’s an inhuman screech from not too far behind you.

“Is there any dynamite?” You babble. “Can we blow it up?”

“I could barely get away from it without it tearing me to shreds.” Mark replies. You can see the torches from the main room in the distance now, coming closer with every step you take. “Besides, your blood is probably the thing that woke it up, so we need to get you as far away from it as possible.”

“Fine,” you agree, willing yourself to run for a little longer. Your lungs are burning now, but luckily Mark is there to help guide you.

The main room is just as you left it but there’s no time to gather any of your things. Whenever your feet catch on any debris Mark is quick to haul you upright, pulling you along until you’re running uphill, getting closer to the exit.

Finally, you feel the warmth of sunlight touch your face. The exit is near, although the sun hasn’t set just yet.

“How are you going to get out?” You pant, casting a worried glance in his direction.

He grimaces. “I’ll have to burn.”

No matter how old a vampire is, sunlight will always be detrimental to them. You’re not an expert in the field itself but you know that something about the sun causes them to become incredibly thirsty incredibly quickly, essentially dehydrating them until all the blood they have consumed is gone.

You’ve seen older vampires last a few hours, but with Mark, you know he won’t last more than ten minutes.

“We can find shade.” You decide as the sunlight becomes brighter, burning into your retinas. Hours of being away from the light cause you to shield your face with your hands, blinking to adjust.

“And stopping that _thing_ from escaping?”

“It won’t be used to the sunlight. You can seek shade while I try to block the entrance.”

It’s a flimsy plan and Mark knows it, but he says nothing since the entrance is so close.

After a few moments, you burst out into the sunlight. It hits Mark hard, sending him staggering to the side. You and almost thrown to the floor but you catch yourself, stopping your momentum and forcing your body to do a 180. 

The entrance to the dig site is nothing more than excavated ground. However, it has been carefully dug around a mining quarry, meaning any displacement of the rocks will cause a cave in.

You fling yourself at the rocks, loosening them and then throwing them down into the steep hole. One by one they tumble until they begin to fall in groups. You only just make it out of the way before the boulders start to swarm. Like an avalanche, they tumble down the hole in the ground and fill it up. You think you see a pale body fighting against the swarm of stone, but half a second later and it’s gone, buried beneath the rubble.

You are safe. 

But Mark isn’t. Swivelling your head, he’s nowhere in sight, which is understandable given the quarry is in the middle of nowhere with no shade. Though the evening is soon setting in the sun is still as bright as can be. You’re unsurprised when a bead of sweat drips down from your forehead.

The city is a few miles from this place and thankfully covered by a lush jungle. If Mark has gone anywhere, it’s there, to seek shade from the daylight and recover before someone comes to pick you up.

With a sigh, you begin the walk and flip out your phone, mustering up your abysmal Spanish so you can order a taxi.

-

If the bellboy notices you and Mark entering the same room, he doesn’t say anything.

You worry your lip with your teeth as you watch Mark collapse onto the bed, only just able to hold himself up. His head is thrown back as if he’s underwater, but he sits there motionless, as if trying to gain some strength back. You don’t blame him; he hadn’t looked good when you’d met up with him at the treeline.

Silently, you pad over to the mini-freezer and extract a few dark red bags. Mark has never, ever consumed any sort of blood in front of you, so you make it a point to throw them on the bed and then head to the bathroom, locking the door behind you and switching the lights on.

As soon as you see your reflection you wish you’d kept them off. Your eyes are bloodshot, no doubt scorched by the different light levels you’ve been exposed to, and your hair has broken free from its ponytail and it all over the place. There are dark smudges of dirt on your face and your clothes are ruffled up.

But it’s your eyes that you can’t bear to look at. You can’t face yourself after the events that have occurred, after what you’ve put Mark through.

The reality of the situation doesn’t seem real. You want to curl up in the hotel bed, close your eyes and let someone else deal with this.

But you can’t. This is _your_ project.

So you should know when it’s time to make the phone call.

Your phone is still in your pocket. One push of a button and you could have a euthanization team down in the tomb by tonight.

But if you do that, what will they think of you and Mark? You’ve never failed at an expedition before, and if they see Mark in the state he’s in, with bruises and scratches all over his body, will they deem him unfit to serve?

Your hands come up to rake through your hair while you sigh, dropping your shoulders and closing your eyes. You are greeted with a steady throb near your temples, the beginning of a headache.

If selfishness and greed have gotten you to where you are now, then the least you can do is take accountability.

You open your eyes.

Your reflection stares back.

The time is just gone six. You have just under two hours to clean up, prepare, and kill whatever is inside that cave.

-

Mark hates how taking life from others, ironically, fills him with life.

Two blood bags down and he feels like a new man. The wounds he’s accumulated throb unpleasantly, a sign they’re starting to heal, and his strength is coming back in slow waves. In a few minutes, he reckons he’ll be able to stand up again.

Whatever that creature was, it had done a number on him.

He glances to the bathroom door as he hears your sigh. Then, a few moments later, the door is unlocked and you come out with the first aid kit, heading straight for him.

You’ve tidied yourself up a bit, hair brushed and hanging down while your face is freshly washed. 

_Pretty,_ he thinks.

“Can I look at the cuts?”

He shifts on the bed. “Sure.”

You sit down quietly, moving the blood bags away (he winces at that) before pulling out some alcohol wipes.

“I think these will heal on their own,” he tells you tentatively. Surely you already know this? A small part of him hopes that it’s because you care, but after your escapade in the cave, he can’t let himself believe that.

“I know,” you reply. “But it’ll clean the dirt around it, and allow us to get a good look at what type of marks it’s left behind.”

He rolls his sleeves up, exposing his forearms where the majority of the injuries are. There’s a sharp intake of breath as you see them and he doesn’t blame you for it.

The marks are dark black, as if someone has injected poison into his veins. You dab at them gently, pressing down firmer when it becomes apparent Mark can’t feel a thing.

“Did they cause you any pain at the time?”

He thinks back, or tries to. In the heat of the moment, he wasn’t too worried about the injuries. “They sort of made my arms heavy for a bit, as if I was being drained.” He watches how delicately you tend to him. As if he’s made of porcelain. As if you _care_.

“Did you get a good look at it?”

“No,” he admits, “but it was pale.”

He watches as a frown overtakes your face. Once each cut is disinfected you draw back, heading over to the wardrobe.

“I think you should just stay here for the night, get some rest and we’ll see how they look in the morning. If the blackness isn’t gone, we’ll speak to medical.”

It’s his turn to frown. “Sure.”

He watches as you pull out a spare change of clothes for him, throwing them onto the bed and then searching through your own garments.

“Are you… going somewhere?” He ventures.

“Yeah,” you don’t look at him as you bring out a jacket. “I’m heading to the midnight library a few streets down from here. Just to do some reading.”

_But what about me?_ He wants to say. Instead, all that comes out is:

“What about that thing down there?”

You send him a smile. "I’ve called for backup. They’ll go straight to the site, take it out and then report back to us for a debriefing. It’ll be dead before nightfall, meaning there’s no way it’ll make its way out of that hole. Don’t worry, just try to get some rest.”

"Okay,” he nods, though he’s still unsure as to why you’re leaving. Then again, you’ve always been a consumer of knowledge, driven to explain the unknown even if you’re on death’s door. He loves your curiosity and hates it at the same time.

“When will you be back?” He loathes himself for asking that, like some lost child, but even after all you’ve done today he still doesn’t want to go a night without you.

The smile you send him is, again, reassuring. All the while you sling your bag over your shoulder and bring out a backpack from the back of the wardrobe, no doubt full of extra resources you’ll be using throughout your browsing session.

“You know how I get,” you send him a wave as you place a hand on the door. “Don’t wait up for me.”

Perhaps, if Mark had listened to your heartbeat instead of false words, he would’ve heard the jump in your pulse.

Bodies don’t lie, after all.

-

Mark finally breaks after two hours of you leaving, going straight to the mini-fridge and pulling out another bag like his life depends on it.

The Spanish kids’ program he’s watching (he can’t figure out how to change the channel) is doing nothing to satiate his hunger. If he’s not thinking about you then he’s left alone with himself and the throbbing in his gums.

While you are a sucker for curiosity, Mark’s downfall is that he still yearns to be human, in every sense of the word. 

He’s even ordered room service just in case you come back, despite him not being able to eat it.

Since it is nightfall, he could technically go out and explore the nightlife here. He’s not supposed to go anywhere without a guide, given the place is swarming with humans, but you’ve never treated him as if he’s unable to handle himself. Up until recently, he’d liked that about you.

Where _are_ you? It has only been two hours, but are you that confident in leaving him alone after everything that’s happened?

As soon as he thinks that, another thought intrudes upon his head, and he goes ramrod straight. What if that thing manages to get out of the cave before the euthanisation team manage to catch it? He knows it’s got a taste for your blood, seeing how it had tried to attack you. Surely it would track you down?

Mark finishes off the blood bag and gets to his feet, grabbing the spare clothes he _still_ hasn’t changed into and heading to the bathroom. Technically, not only is he an assistant in fieldwork, but he has to protect you too.

He glances at himself in the mirror. The marks on his skin are starting to fade away. If he wears a jumper, no-one will even know they’re there.

You can’t even be mad at him. He knows you like your alone time when you are researching but you _can't_ be mad at him. Not after your little stunt from today. You _owe_ him.

_Yes,_ he thinks to himself as he exits the bathroom and grabs his phone. _I’m doing the right thing_.

Your scent is long-gone by the time he’s out the door, meaning he has to use the map app on his phone to figure out where the library is. It’s a fifteen-minute walk which he has to refrain from turning into a five-minute jog in order to blend in.

He doesn’t know why he’s so _urgent_.

The streets are littered with people enjoying the nightlife. In any other situation Mark would take his time and marvel at having access to a different culture. Maybe he’d even pick up a souvenir for you like you do with him, even though he’s normally with you on every journey (though he still can’t figure out how you buy them without him knowing).

But not now. The familiar scent of your perfume greets him as he enters the library although it’s oddly faint. That must mean you’re on the upper floors.

You’re not. There’s no sign of you on the second floor, either. Or on the underground levels.

Mark goes oddly still, mind whirring as he tries to figure out what’s happening.

_Where have you gone?_

Eventually, he gives in and asks the receptionist. His Spanish had been less than fluent at the start of the trip but being a vampire means you learn quickly.

“Excuse me,” he approaches her with a friendly grin. “Did you see a girl come in here earlier? About two hours ago, with a black jacket, purse and handbag?”

The lady thinks for a moment, then laughs. “You’re way too late, handsome. She came in for about half an hour and then left as quick as she came, I’m afraid.”

Mark nods. “I see. Where was she sitting.”

“Top floor, at the back.” The lady points upwards. “I saw on camera, even yelled at her to put her book away, but she just brushed past me. Has your girlfriend gone missing?”

He sets his jaw. “Something like that.”

The top floor of the library is barren so it’s easy to spot where you’ve been. It’s almost as if you were trying to hide behind the shelves. Sure enough, there’s a book on the table, still open on a certain page. The first thing that catches his eye once he looks it over is the crest on the leather front cover. It’s The Association’s crest, which means, from what he’s been told from his training days, you’ve been browsing through a government-issued encyclopedia. There’s one in every library across the globe, hiding in between normal books in order to inform any researcher or hunter who needs advice. After all, The Association aren’t exactly integrated with the modern world.

He sits down, thumbing through until he finds out where you started from.

_ANCIENT FOLKLORE:_

_Vampiric cults are popular throughout the globe. There has been a surge ever since the fifteen hundreds, with expansions throughout the globe (though most are hardly documented given the lack of evidence)._

_Few studies have been conducted into what the cults entail. Most are usually disbanded and shut down, with the ringleaders being prosecuted and cult member psychologically screened to ensure there has been no possession (Type A and Type B only)._

_Throughout all known cult investigations, it is worth noting there are many unique and rarely-mentioned topics that are hardly touched upon in current times, mostly due to lack of evidence. It is vital, then, that these findings and recordings are taken with a pinch of salt._

_In well-developed cults, there have been mentions of the 'Elderlings’. Reports document pale-faced, disfigured vampires, often taken when they are healthy and young, and trapped inside tombs underground. These tombs are usually well decorated, dark, and sealed by multiple barriers. These 'elderlings’ are treated as gods by the cults, though their treatment is far from worship. Only one report details their lifespan, which involves being entrapped in a coffin and left, essentially, for dead inside the tomb, with blood contact occurring roughly every century or so via human sacrifice (given updated findings on hunger intervals in vampires, this data is yet to be confirmed)._

_The reasoning behind this treatment, as well as selection, of these vampires is unknown._

_Of course, every hypothetical supernatural creature must be evaluated in accordance with The Association’s Hunter Constitution._

_We can safely assume these creatures to be weak to sunlight. It would also be safe to assume that, given their lack of exposure to a food source, they have been conditioned (strengthened) through their lack of nourishment. Of course, this speculation could be wrong, and they could be entirely weak, but it would not be unwise to brand these 'elderlings’ as an A* class PREDATOR (see 'chapter 3: Diagnostics’ for more information)._

_Note: Only one paper has been submitted on this topic, in which Hunter Constitution Leader B. A. Lennon states:_

_“Why, who would engage such a thing. Not, surely. Instead, I would leave it to the mutts (a seventeenth-century term for a werewolf) to tear the beast apart. If the could of course, given that fighting a monster in the monster’s own home has, in the past, been rather challenging for our guilds. Therefore I say that the monster is not to be awoken. We may keep them in their tombs, and woe betide the sacrifices that are consumed by it. The sacrifices, at least, we can stop.”_

The next page moves onto another topic, one Mark can’t even register. The paper slides out of his grip and his legs begin to move of their own accord.

You are not at the hotel and you are not at the library.

You have been doing research, all right. Not to satiate your curiosity, but to _kill_.

-

The night ride out to the quarry on the dirt paths is peaceful. No taxis are about at this time so you’ve had a rent a car, using only your memory to navigate the way.

Driving proves difficult in your combat suit. You’re surprised Mark hadn’t asked you what was in your backpack, but then again, he had no reason to. Of course, you feel guilty for leaving him behind, but you’ve put him in danger before. You won’t make the same mistake twice.

The reinforced iron suit digs into your calves, already tender from doing to much running. If you had been smarter perhaps you would have packed stimulants to get you through the fight, but you were left with only the bare minimum.

You are still trying to formulate a plan. There should still be leftover dynamite down in the dig site and you’ve managed to grab some gasoline. Torches too, and stakes, but you don’t suppose they’ll do much damage. And besides, your combat skills are rusty.

Your hands tighten around the steering wheel. They may be rusty, but you can’t afford any mistakes.

You are going to kill this thing and then make it back to Mark, _alive._ It’s the least you can do.

You’re aware that some part of you is being selfish again. The Association will have a field day if Mark returns with your body. They will lament on the waste of a perfectly good human resource, but in your eyes, your sacrifice will be selfless. You are going to atone for your mistakes.

But the most selfish thing of all will be if you die. Mark will forgive you for doing many things, but not for that.

The familiar sight of gravel comes into view just as you feel it under the wheels. You’re close, only a few more seconds and you’ll be on top of the site.

To help aid your search you leave the headlights on, looking for an unusual pile of rubble that will signal where the entrance is. On each of your shoulders and on your wrists are torches, lighting up the night and helping you locate the filled-in hole.

Once you find it, you begin the tedious task of removing all the rocks.

Despite your years of practise you can’t calm your nerves. As each rock is displaced you tense, waiting for the elderling to jump out from the shadows and drag you down. Once the hole is big enough, you light up a piece of dynamite and drop it down, watching the descent and flinching at the explosion that shakes the cavern.

All of your work might be destroyed, but it’s a necessary price to pay. How many would this monster kill if it got out?

To calm yourself, you run through the plan. Destroy the creature, call up The Association. Tell them it was discovered and wreaked havoc upon your research. Tell them you destroyed it and that their theory was true. There is vampiric activity in Argentina and they should start the formal investigation process by weeding out the cult.

You wait for the dust to settle before attaching a weapon belt onto your suit and lowering yourself down into the hole. Your outfit isn’t like the one the euthanisation team use. Scent-masking, black for camouflage, reinforced with materials such as iron that deter certain creatures away. Not to mention the final layer of reinforced chain mail that sits on top, costing you a little speed but providing the protection necessary to give you a fighting chance.

Once your boots find the floor your first point of order is to unload some of the gasoline by the entrance and light it up. Your suit is fireproof, meaning you can get out, but the creature will be deterred.

And the fire will keep Mark out if he comes. Hopefully, your alibi was sincere enough to get him to stay put, but you never know.

Then you arm yourself with a wooden stake, coated in iron to burn the elderling’s skin. Though they seem to be a sub-species of vampire you’re sure they too won’t be able to stand the touch of iron.

With all your torches on and exit blocked, you take a breath and walk into the darkness.

It’s in here, you are sure of it. Hiding in the shadows, watching your every move. Perhaps it has returned to its tomb, the only home it can remember, or perhaps it can smell your blood and is hunting, getting ready to pounce?

But it doesn’t show itself. Not even when you reach the first cavern, which gives you time to create a few more fires around the perimeter, scavenge a few more bits of dynamite and grab some extra batteries from the crates, just in case.

The light from the fire lulls you into a false sense of security. Which is why, when your back is turned, you don’t expect the attack.

The first thing you feel is a blooming pain in your neck. Then you are taken down to the floor as it clings to your side, screeching in your ear as its nails try to dig into you. Within moments you have raised your elbow and begin to slam it into its side, driving it again and again until it falls off.

You roll away and bring out a stake, locating it on the other side of the room.

The elderling is hardly human. It’s so pale, so deathly pale, and it’s sallow skin just about clings to its bones. The nails are more like claws and apart from a few scraggly hairs, its head is bald, the only defining features being to haunted, hunger-driven red eyes and an open mouth with two white fangs, a stark contrast to its yellow gums.

It rests in a crouch with one hand on the ground, heaving as it glares at you, flinching every so often as the light licks at its skin. Then, it lunges.

You are prepared. The heel of your boot meets its abdomen and you kick it across the room.

As you recover from the manoeuvre it pounces again, releasing a shrieking cry and going straight for your neck. The movement is so fast you can only deflect with one hand, sending you staggering backwards.

Now that it’s closer you engage in hand-to-hand combat. It’s surprisingly nimble and for every attack you try to administer it jolts away before swooping back in, trying to gauge the right time to break down your defences.

It never stays still, flitting towards you and then away from your torches, backing up to lead you away from the light and down the tunnel. You don’t realise until the creature is almost swallowed by darkness and at that point you have just enough time to jerk back.

But it isn’t enough. Its claws grasp at your wrist and you are yanked forward so harshly your neck snaps back and forward.

You are then thrown on the ground face first and it dives onto you, nails scraping at the armour, trying to get to your skin. You lie still, unable to shake it off unless you wait for the right opportunity, although a scream rips through you as it pounds your body in fury, outraged at not being able to sink its teeth into your flesh.

Then there is a dull thudding sound, like metal, and the weight on your back disappears. You are then dragged backwards, hands pulling on your shoulders to get you upright before you are left in the middle of the brightly lit cavern.

Your saviour stands before you, fists curled before lunging at the maddened creature, taking it into the darkness.

-

Skin and nails and teeth clash, tearing chunks out of each other and pushing and pulling until Mark doesn’t know where he ends and his enemy begins. All he knows is his rage, powerful enough to fling it away from him. He catches up easily, sending a punch to its face that leaves it hissing, scattering off back down the tunnel in retreat.

Something primal in him wants to chase it down, tear into it the same way it had tried to tear into you. The urge deepens when he backs up and turns back to the light, so bright and hot that his head throbs. But he inhales and focuses on _you_ , covered in dirt and blood, battered and bruised, staring at him like he’s your last hope and worst fear all at the same time.

"How are you here?” You mouth out.

He says nothing, only looks you over to ensure you’re okay. When he’s done with that he extends a hand to you.

After a moment’s hesitation, you take it.

“Next time you decide to do something stupid,” he only lets go once you’re standing confidently on your own, “don’t forget to include me.”

“You shouldn’t be here.” You wipe your bloody nose. “How did you get through the fire?”

He ignores the question. “Do you like making me angry?”

“How did you-”

“No, Y/N, _look at me_ -” he reaches for you, pushes you up against the wall and _glares,_ red eyes meeting your own.

“What was the plan, huh?” He grinds out. “What was the stupid, _selfish_ plan? Be the martyr? Break me down a little more? Go out with a bang?”

“I’m not trying to hurt you,” his gaze flickers down to your lips as you spit the words out. “I’m finishing what I started. Call me selfish, but this is _my_ fault.”

“You don’t get to do stuff like this!” He snaps, beautiful face twisted in anger as he pushes you further into the wall. “We’re a _team!_ You are going to _die!_ ”

“Then _you_ stop being selfish!” You push him off, wriggling out of his grip. “All you talk about is how self-centered I am, but what about you? If this thing gets out-” you point down the tunnel. “- everyone dies. I have a duty to stop this thing. Your _emotions-_ ” your hand jabs him in the chest “- make you _as selfish as me._ All you think about is not hurting _me._ ”

“You don’t get to decide when you die!” He growls out. “I won’t let you.”

“You don’t get a choice.” The two of you stand there, chests heaving, staring each other down. “I’m selfish, Mark. I put my needs before your own, and I’m so, _so_ sorry I do that. You don’t deserve to be treated like that and I swear to you, I’m going to change.

"But this isn’t some push-and-pull game. This is a risk, no matter how selfish, that _has to be taken._ Do you understand?”

You point to the darkness.

“It has to die. Call me selfish all you want, but you’re not getting hurt again because of my mistake, and no-one else is either. Now listen to me.”

You step closer to him, taking his head in your hands and making him look down at you.

“Go to the exit while the fire is still manageable and wait there.” You tell him softly. “Just let me do this. Then, I’ll stop all this and you can be as selfish as you want.”

Mark closes his eyes, breathes in your scent, your blood, mixed in with the stench of the gasoline and ashes of the fire. Then he opens them.

“No,” he replies.

“Then we’ll both be selfish,” you take his hands in yours without faltering, as if you’d expected this outcome. “We kill it, together.”

Human error has taught Mark a lot of things. Being self-absorbed meant you could never place Mark as your top priority.

But now he can see that you serve something more than yourself. You’ve hurt him, yes, but in doing so you proved your implicit trust in him.

And The Association must be obeyed. If the elderling lives, both of you will be penalised.

But most of all, Mark has discovered that he is selfish too. He’s wanted you to see the effect you’ve had on him without asking himself exactly _why_ you’ve acted that way.

He is selfish for you. He wants _you._

And he can have you, when all of this is put to rest.

-

You are down to the last few drops of gasoline, the most effective weapon against the elderling.

There’s an odd sense of deja vu as you and Mark walk through the dark tunnel. It seems longer than before but luckily, now there are two of you, it feels less daunting. After all, the elderling can only come from one direction.

Upon entering the tomb, the two of you stick together, back to back as you shine the torches and set up some small fires in order to light the room up.

Once you can see the whole room, you realise it’s nowhere to be found. Tilting your head up you observe the angels, clutching their hands to their chests as they stare down silently.

The elderling drops down like a cat, taking Mark to the floor with another earsplitting scream. You charge, catching it around the middle and hurling it off him but it takes you along with it, flinging you as if you were a ragdoll and you fly through the air until your back hits the stone sculptures.

“Y/N!” Mark yelps, before he is cut off.

It lunges for you again but Mark catches it by the leg, yanking it to the floor and pinning it down. It struggles feebly, jerking and twitching and screeching, but he doesn’t relent.

The gasoline is in your hand. The elderling is subdued.

“Do it!” Mark commands, grunting with the effort of restraining it.

But you can’t.

“You’re in the firing line, let me stake it!” You call out.

“Just do it!” He roars again, a fierce determination in his eyes, brighter than the fires that surround him.

Sometimes, to be self _ish,_ is to be self _less._

You throw the gasoline. Then the lighter.

The tomb _explodes_.

-

Inspector Kim hates the heat.

Even in the early hours of the morning, Argentina is far too hot. He’s used to the stoic climate of London, but unfortunately, his work never stops.

Flying out on such short notice is bound to make a man grumpy. Add on the haste to assemble an investigation _and_ clean-up team in less than an hour and it is a miracle he can even function.

The gravel crunches under his feet. A member of the euthanisation team- he can’t remember who -greets him with a clipboard.

“Sir,” she dips her head respectfully. “No sign of life down in the cave system. We’re mapping the full extent of it now as per your orders. Investigation Unit One is trying to find any salvagbles and we’ve called out a few medics.”

Inspector Kim raises an eyebrow. “They survived?”

“Just barely.” His junior flips through her clipboard. “L/N’s novice medical training allowed her to administer the correct treatment,” her gaze flickers to his neck, “and Assistant Lee has made a few recovery. Of course, with situations like these, medical leave is required…”

She trails off and he sighs, seeing where this is going.

“You want me to sign their medical leave.”

“If you would, sir.” She passes him the clipboard.

A good few metres away, just outside of the hustle and bustle of the multiple teams that are swarming the site, you sit with a warm blanket draped around you and a young medical officer dabbing at your wounds. He’d taken one look at you and decided to administer a stimulant, but that was several hours ago now and you were beginning to crash. Now the dull throbbing is returning, in your legs, your arms, your neck, everywhere.

You watch Inspector Kim through half-lidded eyes, exhaling heaving when the young woman darts away, no doubt to report back to the rest of her team.

Have they come back from their expedition yet? Investigation Unit One (a mismatch of whoever was on call from the euthanisation unit and combat unit) are, as far as you know, still exploring the tomb (and, of course, allowing forensics to examine the body).

A hand falls on your shoulder. Mark adjusts the blanket, tightening it around your shoulders and coming to sit down next to you.

He looks… better than you, at least. Your quick thinking, they told you earlier, prevented any real damage from happening to him, and after copious amounts of blood bags, he looks practically normal. Except for his eyes.

Mark’s eyes have always been the key to his soul. He looks tired, as if he is carrying the weight of the world inside him, but content nonetheless.

You’re glad.

His hand comes up and presses your cheek to his shoulder. The two of you sit there, not talking, just watching everyone else bustle around. Your statements have already been taken and soon you’ll be good to go. You can go back to the hotel room and then take a plane, maybe back to the headquarters, or maybe somewhere else.

Inspector Kim comes over. He looks how you feel.

“Well, looks like the two of you are finished here. It looks like a job well done, despite the mess you’ve made. Now, considering we have just become aware of a new threat,” he looks down at his phone, “the headquarters will want someone to lead the investigation on these creatures. I’ve put the two of you forward as project lead and project manager, so congratulations. When are you available to go back into the field?”

Mark’s hand finds yours, out of sight from Inspector Kim. He squeezes gently and you bite your lip, thinking over the decision.

“Thank you for the offer, Inspector Kim,” you glance up at Mark. “But I think we’re going to be a little selfish.”

Mark helps you stand, placing an arm around your waist to steady you. There’s already a car waiting to take you back.

“That’s not an answer, L/N.” Inspector Kim stares at you. “Lee, is she concussed or something?”

“Just hit up my phone later,” you wave him off, turning your back on him and beginning to head to the vehicle. “I’ll let you know.”

Fortunately, Inspector Kim feels just a little ounce of sympathy for you and your ordeal and so waves off the two officers hovering nervously around you. He’ll relax for now, he decides. Besides, there is a stack of paperwork larger than him waiting back at his office. The Association will come for you, like they always do, and soon you’ll be out of his sight.

As well as this wretched continent.

-

Mark closes your door for you and gets in the other side, putting on your seatbelt and taking the seat right next to you.

“I thought your phone got destroyed in the fire?” He murmurs next to your ear, just as the engine starts up.

“I did,” you nod, before coming to rest on his shoulder, closing your eyes and preparing to sleep your journey away.

“So Inspector Kim-?”

“Let’s just see how far we can run,” you lace your fingers with his. “Before we have to be selfish again.”

-


End file.
